


Asphodel

by viceroyvonmutini



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root was convinced, but Shaw wasn't having any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asphodel

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from exerciseindisguise: root goes deaf in the other ear from a grenade or explosion that she shoved a number or shaw or finch away from. She’s basically deaf. 80% hearing loss in that other ear. Root really only communicates with the machine now and she’s super quiet now. 
> 
> So my knowledge of how the implant works is limited so I might have gotten the details wrong, and I apologise if I did.

It wasn’t the number’s fault, though the way Shaw treated him after you might have thought it was. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Until Root stepped in- on the Machine’s orders- and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

By that logic it could be argued he was in the right place at the right time to be saved by Root so selflessly, but by the way Shaw broke his wrist he might not agree.

That was nothing, thought Shaw.

At the time it was nothing to Root either, except that it became everything. In those few lonely seconds after the blast it was like her world was static just for a moment, head rising from the floor eyes following the way Shaw ran to where she lay. It didn’t register, not fully. Not then.

The way she was pulled to her feet, Shaw’s mouth moving a few words caught like whispers in the wind and Root turned to the explosion. Shaw wasn’t happy about being ignored, dragging Root’s attention forward and trying to assess the damage beneath the layer of dust and blood.

By that point Root’s brain had caught up with her senses.

‘I can’t hear you.’

Shaw blinked.

That was partially a lie: Root could hear her, could hear the way her mouth moved, the way the sounds translated to electrical discord, could hear what the Machine interpreted in her ear.

She couldn’t hear the roaring fire in the background left over from the blaze. She couldn’t hear Shaw’s heavy breathing. She could patch herself through to Finch but at the expense of losing Shaw. The Machine.

Root watched Shaw’s eyes change. There was something she hadn’t seen in a long time that made her shoulder tingle.

Shaw checked her over once more, a cursory glance to ensure there were no more injuries. She suspected that if there had been the number would not have lived the night. Shaw then moved on, stalking towards the number pushed to the side and pulling him up violently. She broke his wrist.

Root didn’t wait up, leaving Shaw to clear up the mess.

 

* * *

 

Root had never really liked people. She didn’t mix with them, found their endless faults irredeemable and their stupidity unforgivable: she lacked the patience to understand that faults were-supposedly- not faults at all, but a unique facet to human nature.

Root never really had much time for humanity anyway. She had better things to do.

She was coping, therefore, better than most, because there was nothing that she truly missed.

The problem with hating humanity, with believing so utterly in the satisfaction and superiority of your own company (and the company of the omniscient AI if you happened to have one in your ear) is that it soon becomes clear that your loneliness is perpetual: self-promoting.

Root needed no one yet found it undeniable that there were those she had found a home with. Unable to effectively communicate with them, she developed an understanding once again that she didn’t need their input.

Their presence, in her mind, was enough. Except Root was rarely in their company these days.

Root had been missing for weeks after the event before returning to the subway; what she had been doing, no one knew.

Adjusting.

Upon her return she explained her condition: that her one remaining ear was virtually destroyed, only able to pick up on very concentrated sound. That her implant, not tuned to pick up the sounds of the outside world, would remain tuned as such in order to pick up Her instructions and that this severely limited what she was able to hear: that is, limited to what She was able to translate for her.

Root kept herself busy. Very busy. Dangerously busy. Shaw planted at least three extra bugs on her person, hovered in Root’s peripheral vision not saying a word. It seemed a conscious decision by both: Root didn’t say much of anything outside of when absolutely necessary in dealing with various numbers. She was convincingly content in her own silent bubble, muttering silently to the Machine and carrying out orders.

Almost convincingly.

Shaw watched. Shaw was always watching. Root felt it like a burn: a constant arson on her body as Shaw watched, cataloguing everything.

For someone who professed a disregard for most things Shaw was observant, calculating, and she listened. Listened to the lackluster tone of Root’s voice like something was missing- and it was. It wasn’t devastating, but if there was one thing Shaw hated it was change.

Change to her equilibrium, her established norm. Her worldview. Root had a habit of changing that; she had the audacity to shoulder her way into Shaw’s life like a bulldozer, creating herself and her habits as the new norm and now she had torn that away.

Shaw felt like she had lost something too.

Shaw didn’t like that at all.

Because there was a loss there, somewhere, in her own ear. In the way her day was never filled with sultry innuendos and frankly outrageous flirting as before. Root rarely flirted these days, at least not in public. They were rarely alone together these days.

Which was odd: not only because Root had once enjoyed picking Shaw off like shark bait, isolating her and surrounding her and taking her pound of flesh but because Root could hear most clearly in such situations. Without the overwhelming sensory input of a crowd or a group the Machine and what was left of her hearing could clearly pick up the voice inflections: the Machine compensating for what her hearing could not pick up with only one thing to focus upon.

Shaw always made her presence clearly known to Root. Shaw never crept up catching her unawares, but walked wide and around and clearly in sight. She never mumbled, always spoke in a lull and when the mission required that they work together was happy to clarify precisely what the plan was before entering the field, even sticking to it: never deviating without giving Root clear warning over coms.

She used coms sparingly, knowing the communication trade-off Root would have to make and never said a word as her arm instinctively shot out to steady an unstable Root in those first few months. She watched and she learned and she adapted: she pulled Root into her norm again and Root was more grateful than words.

Because Shaw wasn’t the only observant one and Root noticed the allowances Shaw made for her but Root couldn’t look at her, couldn’t talk with her because she didn’t have the words and Shaw made her feel like the bubble she had made for herself just didn’t quite cut it.

 

* * *

 

Root emptied the last of her bullets as she ran for cover, diving behind the crates. She didn’t need her hearing to feel the bullets in the air around her, disturbing the air as they fired.

Root waited for the Machine to provide a solution but her implant remained silent. She checked the wound to her abdomen, hand coming away with blood and she hit her head on the wood behind her in frustration.

_Threat neutralized._

Root sat up, wincing slightly and risked standing at the news. Turning around she saw Shaw standing with her weapon drawn looking suitably threatening. Root let a small smile tug at her lips.

‘Hi Shaw.’

Shaw scowled, stalking towards her. Root heard the muffled click of heels upon the concrete as Shaw came to stand before her gaze uncompromising.

‘You fucking idiot,’ she hissed, causing Root to raise an eyebrow.

Shaw ignored it, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her in the direction of the exit.

The drive was silent but Root could feel the anger radiating from Shaw. She did her best to ignore it, listening to Her filling in the gaps and informing her of her next task. The Machine was a lot clearer these days: not that Root didn’t still enjoy their games, but she was highly conscious that it was significantly harder for her to play.

She also suspected She felt slightly guilty despite their numerous conversations-bordering-on-arguments in which she had repeatedly stated that she knew what she was signing up for and that it she didn’t blame Her in any way.

Shaw brought the car to a halt, stepping out and slamming the door violently. Root sighed before taking her cue and exiting the vehicle, following Shaw as she walked up to the apartment complex. Root furrowed her brow: why had Shaw brought her here?

‘Why are we here?’

Shaw didn’t reply, leading the way up the stairs and into her apartment, motioning for Root to sit down on the couch in a way that wasn’t up for debate.

‘Take off your top,’ instructed Shaw before heading to a nearby kitchen cabinet and pulling out a first aid kit.

Root did as instructed exposing the wound, and Shaw crouched taking a preliminary look.

‘The bullet’s still in there,’ Shaw stood up, collecting a bowl from the kitchen area before returning, settling on the floor in front of Root, ‘I’m going to take it out. You need painkillers?’

Root shook her head, watching as Shaw readied herself. Root remembered when she would look on dotingly, teasing Shaw for her bedside manner as she pulled out shards of glass and chunks of metal from her body without so much as a warning.

Now Shaw made clear her course of action and Root watched as best she could, body tensing as Shaw prodded with tweezers trying to be quick.  She watched as Shaw pulled out the thankfully still intact bullet and dropped it into the bowl soundlessly.

‘Cleaning it. It’s gonna sting.’

Root winced but said nothing.

‘Stitches. Stay still.’

Root gripped the arm of the couch as Shaw slowly and painstakingly threaded through her skin and sewed her up. Shaw always worked with care, focused so intently on her task and Root was always so drawn to it, drawn to Shaw in these moments and even now she couldn’t take her eyes away.

Finishing, Shaw tied and cut the string-like substance before bandaging the area.

‘Keep them dry. Change the dressing-‘

‘Every 72 hours,’ finished Root softly.

Shaw looked up.

’24 hour bed rest.’

‘Shaw I-‘

‘Now.’

Root’s face hardened.

‘I have to go. She-‘

‘I don’t care if you need to clean her fucking hard drives,’ Shaw stood up, ‘you’re staying here.’

Root looked up but said nothing. Shaw guessed she was listening to the Machine right now and Shaw’s blood burned at the thought. Root might not blame Her, but Shaw sure as hell did.

Eventually Root nodded slowly, body sagging.

‘Alright Sameen, I’ll stay.’

Shaw looked at her.

‘You’re a fucking idiot.’

‘For saving someone?’

Shaw scoffed.

‘For thinking you’re the only one who matters.’

‘I don’t-‘

‘Like the world rests on your shoulders and yours alone. Like your some special fucking snowflake.’

Root couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

‘I sort of am.’

‘You not better than us. Any of us. John, Harold hell even Bear.’

‘You’re equating me to the dog?’

‘You lost your hearing Root,’ the air rang still and Root felt those words like lead weights on her shoulders, ‘but you didn’t lose the team.’

‘I lost you once.’

‘I came back.’

The silence in Root’s ears seemed to multiply with Shaw’s words and a retort seemed lost.

‘You’re not the same,’ growled Shaw, ‘I get that. And I definitely don’t want you to talk to me about it. But the others do.’

Root let the words register.

‘You’re telling me I’m not alone,’ she all but whispered.

‘I’m telling you there’s no fucking ‘dead’ in team.’

Shaw fixed her with a strong gaze, ensuring her words got through before picking up her things and taking them to the sink, cleaning up the blood and tossing away the bullet. Root sat in silence as Shaw finished up before heading to bed.

As she passed the couch she stopped and glanced back at Root.

‘You gonna stare at the wallpaper all night?’

Root looked at her.

‘Sameen…’ Root looked at her like all the words in the world would never be adequate to describe what she felt and Shaw thought she might be thankful for that. Instead Root settled on a simpler phrase.

‘You’re a good listener.’

Shaw looked at her before walking towards a nearby dresser and pulling out a pair of pyjamas for Root, tossing them her way without a second glance.

‘Get changed. I’ll take the couch.’

Root looked at the clothing in her hands, allowing herself a little smile before standing up and heading to the bathroom.

‘But Sameen,’ she purred, ‘why don’t we share?’

Shaw shot her a glare but Root ignored it, eyes swimming with mirth as she shut the bathroom door behind her.

Sure Root had lost her hearing, but Shaw had never been that good with words. 


End file.
